Talk:Watch Out Now/@comment-3575890-20150521062051
Well, I'm not going to lie. It was extremely painful and honestly didn't make me feel better like I had hoped. Right now, I am so heartbroken and I don't know how long before I'll be able to move on from this. To begin with, I had the task of carrying the cross to the altar. That wasn't a problem, but nobody told me where I was supposed to sit after, so I ended up walking around the back trying to figure out where I was supposed to go. For the first 10 minutes, I ended up sitting in a pew with some random people because I didn't want to draw so much attention to myself, lol. Thankfully, it all worked out though and I was able to find my family and sit with my them for the remainder of it, which thank god for that. I can't imagine how awful it would have been if I hadn't had my brother beside me to comfort me throughout the whole ceremony. I was holding it together really well until my cousin read aloud a letter that she had written for my grandmother when she was still alive, but ill with dementia and omfg it made me bawl like a baby. Not only was it incredibly touching and an instant tearjerker of a speech, but the whole of it was basically a walk through memory lane between her and grandma, and while I love that she had such a close relationship with our grandma, it filled me with so much regret that I never had that. My cousin has all these wonderful memories throughout the years and I have so, so few. I was close with my grandma when I was younger, albeit not as close with her as my cousin who was fortunate to live close by, but so many of my memories are so fuzzy when I look back on them. None I can remember with such clarity as my cousin, whom remembers every single moment like it was yesterday. She is so blessed to have that. She held it together really throughout the entire reading until she got to the very last sentence, and then she burst into tears. It was heartwrenching, and by then, there wasn't a dry eye in the church. Finally, there was the slideshow, and that was when I lost it. The nostalgia set in and the tears wouldn't stop pouring. With the memory of her in her casket still fresh, seeing her laughing and smiling, so full of life and joy, hurt so much. The presentation chronicled her whole life beginning from when she was my age and up to her final years. So, so many of the pictures were of her and her grandchildren. We were her pride and joy and she loved us all so much. The other majority of the images were of course of her and grandma and their many adventures they had together. Oh, what a marriage they had. The love and affection was still as strong as ever after fifty years; even when she lost all of her memories of him, a part of her could still sense that he was special. She loved him right up until her last breath. Their marriage truly was the epitome of my ideal relationship. They travelled the world together, had friends from EVERYWHERE, loved to party even in their elderly years, had so many children and grandchildren. Truly, with the exception of the last decade she suffered, my grandma lived her life to the fullest. She was so, so beautiful, even as she lay there motionless in her casket. She looked so much like the grandmother I remembered before her wretched disease took her away. Her hair was in big fluffy curls the way she used to style it, her makeup was perfect, and she was dressed to the nines just like she always used to look. She was always such an elegant and classy lady. Even when she would just step out for a few minutes to the farm, she'd always put on some lipstick and mascara, lol. I'm sure I inherited my most feminine traits from her. And young or old, she was SO beautiful. In her 20s especially, she looked like a movie star as did my grandpa. They look like a classic Hollywood couple in their wedding photos. <3 That said, it wasn't just that my grandmother was blessed with outward beauty; but even more internal beauty. She was one of the most selfless people I had ever known. She dropped out of school when she was only thirteen to take care of all of her younger siblings, and worked herself to the bone to support her family. She never got to complete her education, but she was truly one of the most intelligent and strongest people you could have ever met. She lived the happiest, most fulfilling life (discounting the last 10 years) against all the odds. As she lay there in her casket with all of her family crying their eyes out surrounding her, I could have sworn that she looked so peaceful, that you could almost pretend that she was just sleeping and would wake up at any minute to rise from her casket and comfort us all like the selfless nurturer she always was. Of course, I was pulled out of that reverie of denial pretty quickly the moment I felt her hand, cold as ice. I knew obviously she would be, but I hadn't expected that much, or rather prepared for it. Especially when she looked so alive lying there. She honestly felt like she was made of wax. It was such a surreal feeling, the temperature and texture of her hands. Before we left the church, I noticed a single balloon up high in the ceiling. It instantly struck me as symbolic as she used to carry a balloon around with her when she was in the care home (lol she was so cute). It even looked like her ballon. It made me think of her, and consider the hopeful possibility, no matter how small, that maybe, just maybe, that balloon wasn't there by coincidence. A girl can dream anyway. The funeral is tomorrow, and while those are usually much harder than the prayers, I am hoping it will be easier because this was so, so fucking hard.